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Weekly Contest #219
I smelled him before I saw him, thick and bitter-sweet. His movements were slow, a leg that slid easily behind him, a warped shadow. His hair was like pondweed, wild and brash, mucky black coils that covered his eyes. He was thrown into the cell next to mine, and he sank into a corner, falling asleep easily as if he were on a feather bed. He was used to this - the cold, motionless dark. I thought: He knows nothing else. He was lucky, then. I watched him for a long time (what else was ...
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